


Uncovered Truths

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Series: ECWeek 2018 [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, ECWeek 2018, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 13:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14380053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: She can't very well tell him that he's her pixie-dust-approved soulmate.  He's Snow fucking White's True Love.  How could Emma Swan, the sainted Savior, have been born otherwise?





	Uncovered Truths

**Author's Note:**

> Date Written: 19-20 April 2018  
> Word Count: 2028  
> Written for: ECWeek 2018  
> Prompt: Day 1: David is the man with the Lion Tattoo  
> Recipient: lonely_as_topaz  
> Summary: She can't very well tell him that he's her pixie-dust-approved soulmate. He's Snow fucking White's True Love. How could Emma Swan, the sainted Savior, have been born otherwise?  
> Spoilers: Canon divergent AU starting with ep 02x01 "Broken", though this fic takes place near the end of ep 02x02 "We Are Both," after David has taken Henry to stay with him.  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Series: Uncovered Truths  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Time," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Once Upon a Time," ABC, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: Okay, I wasn't actually _planning_ on creating another AU/verse for EvilCharming. I really wasn't. But this idea just hit me _SO_ hard as I was writing this first piece, and now I'm down for this total rewrite of the series with David as Regina's soulmate. I think it'll finally get me to work through my ideas of True Love vs. Soulmate, since we'll have to deal with David being both to different people. I don't _think_ this will end up EvilSnowing, but don't quote me, okay? And for the record, I am working under the assumption that the first two eps of S2 take place over 24-36 hours, 48 hours tops. But I really am working with those first two eps being a single day, especially since I haven't sat down to rewatch them for verification. Instead I checked the transcripts for the dialogue I needed.
> 
> Note: Any dialogue in _"italics"_ is Regina's Head!EQ. Yeah, I pulled that idea from _BSG_ because I liked it. Fckn deal, okay? Also, the blockquoted chunk has dialogue directly from ep 02x01 "Broken", thanks to the [_Once Upon a Time_ Episode Transcripts site](https://ouattranscripts.wordpress.com/).
> 
> Dedication: My muses, as usual…
> 
> Beta: theonlyspl got a cursory first glance over this, but any remaining errors are entirely on my stubborn ass. Polite concrit goes a long way to getting errors fixed.

The entire mansion is quiet. Too quiet. Her skin crawls, swarms of tiny fire ants marching and biting beneath the surface until she feels as if she'll be shifted clean off the couch. She knows better than to sit alone in her office, illuminated only by the fire in the hearth, with the decanter of cider and no food in her belly, but she finds she simply cannot care. The mere thought of food sets her stomach to lurching sickly, and she has to take several measured breaths before it settles. The cider doesn't exactly help in that arena, but if she drinks enough, she won't care any longer.

Staring into the fire, she blinks as the flames take on the shape of a lion rampant. The image doesn't fade, no matter how much she wishes it would, and her mind wanders back to Town Hall, after Snow White and Emma had disappeared in the portal with the Wraith. She shudders at the memory of the Wraith, absently rubbing a thumb over her palm where the mark had been. The idea of that mark or the Wraith coming back terrifies her. 

What terrifies her even more is what she saw afterward…

> _"I should've killed you myself."_
> 
> _She got right in his face. "Well, then. What's stopping you?" Before he can even react the slightest bit, her magic bursts out to throw him against the wall opposite her. The wallpaper comes alive, branches and vines bursting forth from the walls to twine around David's body in ways that would repulse and petrify her younger self if she wasn't so hell-bent on teaching the idiot shepherd prince a fatally valuable lesson._
> 
> _And then, as he fights back, she sees it. Between the vines slithering around to pin his body to the wall and his own struggles against them, his sleeves are pushed up toward his elbows. There, boldly displayed on his right forearm, is the symbol of a pale lion rampant on a field of deepest black. She knows that sigil, that very tattoo, all too well. She never saw his face, but he had darker hair, didn't he? It was well after sunset and she gazed at his back through the haze of smoke in that damned tavern. She wishes to be anywhere else but here in this precise moment, but she_ cannot _let him know that anything is amiss. He cannot be allowed the upper hand._
> 
> _"You think you're some heroic prince?" she asks with a sneer, doing her damnedest to cover the slick, queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Please. You're nothing but the son of a shepherd. I should've killed you when I could."_

The sharp sound of a lion roaring pulls her from the memory. She glances around the room, half-expecting a lion to have magically appeared in her office while she was woolgathering. The very lack of a lion, real or inked, should be a blessing, but she finds herself feeling even worse.

"Oh, who are you kidding, Regina?" she mutters bitterly, eschewing her tumbler for drinking straight from the decanter. "It's not like you can have any kind of life with your soulmate when he's Prince fucking Charming and the husband of your mortal enemy."

A tiny voice that sounds suspiciously like her younger self whispers sibilantly, _"Your mortal enemy who is now dead in a land that was destroyed by your glorious curse."_

"No!" she growls and stands on unsteady feet. "Stop it! I promised Henry--"

_"You promised your father, too, and look where that got you. Face it, Regina, you're weak without your magic. You should've let the shepherd die when you had the chance."_

She opens her mouth to retort, knowing just how insane she sounds, arguing with herself as she is, but a knock at the door stops her. She glances at her watch, noting that it's nearly midnight, and stiffens in place.

_"You know it's probably that idiot Frankenstein and his mob come to finish you off. You deserve it after letting our beautiful curse be destroyed like you did."_

"You shut up," she hisses, wanting that voice gone, but fearing it's exactly right and her death is coming.

The knock becomes heavy pounding, and her heart begins to match its rhythm, breathing harsh and reedy as panic sets in. She's frozen to the spot, but knows that anyone pounding on the door only needs to walk about twenty feet to look into the windows of her office and find her. Without any kind of reliable magic, she is utterly defenseless against this entire benighted town full of idiots. Without Emma Swan here, no one's going to think twice about how upset Henry would be when they kill her. And who knows? Given how she's treated him, maybe he won't. Maybe he _shouldn't_. Maybe--

"Regina? Regina, I know you're in there!"

The shepherd. Of course.

_"Your soulmate."_

"Shut _up_ ," she hisses again, still unable to move. At least this time she knows it's because it's _David_ on the other side of the door. And then, as he continues to pound on the door, she realizes that something might be wrong with Henry. That is enough to get her moving to open the front door and squint up at him. She tries to read his expression; the need to know about her son is a palpable fear. "Henry? Is he all right?"

"What?" he asks, staring at her for a moment. "Yeah, the kid's fine. He's sleeping and I've got the Blue Fairy keeping watch over him."

She growls at that, despising that blue bug more than life itself, but the knowledge that her son is safe appeases her heart. "Then why are you here at nearly midnight, Charming?"

"We need to talk."

 _"Nothing good ever comes of those four words,"_ the inner voice whispers in her mind. _"He's going to kill you as soon as he gets you alone, and you deserve it."_

She grimaces and bites her tongue to keep from snarking at that voice, not wanting to give David any further ammunition to keep Henry from her. She lets out a slow, measured breath and steps aside to let him into the house. His boots echo in the silence of the mansion as he takes the three steps up to the foyer. Closing the door, she locks it and pauses for a moment before joining him. The lack of food paired with too much potent cider is making itself known as a truly bad idea now. What she wouldn't give for some magic to lessen the effects of her stupidity and self-sabotage.

"What is so damned important that you couldn't wait until tomorrow morning, Charming?"

"I had to wait until Henry was asleep. He's been shadowing me ever since I took him home and…" He looks conflicted and won't meet her curious gaze.

" _And_ what?" she finally asks, nerves already beyond frayed by the events of the last couple days. The laughter bubbles up suddenly. "What's the matter, shepherd? Can't handle being a parent after all?"

" _Grand_ parent," he snaps back.

"You're quibbling semantics with me at midnight?" She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Why are you here? What is so gods damned important that we need to talk about it _now_?"

His right hand rakes through his hair and she finds herself staring at the tattoo making itself known again. Her chest feels tight, her stomach dropping out on her again as she's faced with the reason she's so… _less than sober_ at the present moment.

_'You should've killed him when you had the chance."_

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

His words bring her back to the present again, and she bites back a curse at the heat in her cheeks. "H-How" -- she _hates_ that she stumbles over her words like this -- "How long have you had that tattoo?" She prays that she sounds more perturbed than longingly curious, but she can't guarantee that anything is going her way lately.

"I got it when I was younger," he says softly, staring at his forearm with a frown. "I just felt this need to do something different. I guess I considered it my rebellious teen phase? I wanted a way to get a better life for my mother and myself. I thought a lion would be a good way to feel braver than I was, more able to see a way out of the hell of barely scraping by enough to keep the farm from year to year." He turns that intense gaze on her. "Why do you care?"

"I--" She has no words for what she's feeling or why she needs this information. She can't very well tell him that he's her pixie-dust-approved soulmate. He's Snow fucking White's True Love. How could Emma Swan, the sainted Savior, have been born otherwise? "I've never seen it before."

 _"You're a filthy coward,"_ that inner voice taunts. _"Snow White is dead. We both know it. Just take what you want like you always have."_

His eyebrow quirks up at her words, so perfectly timed that she half-wonders if he can hear that inner voice of hers. "Why would you be looking for my tattoo?"

"It--"

_"Tell him!"_

"It's--"

_"You are weak and pathetic, Regina!"_

She starts to tremble, that last volley from her inner voice sounding far too much like Mother for her own comfort. She knows that love is weakness; Mother made sure she's learned that lesson multiple times over the course of her lifetime. But just this once, can't she have _one_ thing go in her favor with regard to love? If Snow White truly is dead in the void of the old lands, why shouldn't she be able to have her soulmate? Before she can consider the consequences of her actions, she launches herself at him, pressing her lips to his. It doesn't last long before he pushes her away, but she finds herself drawn to the surprising softness of his mouth.

"What the hell, Regina?"

"I'm sorry," she replies, then lets out an ugly laugh. "I've wanted to do that ever since I saved you from George's guillotine. Now that your precious princess is gone, I thought it was high time I finally collect on at least _part_ of what I've wanted all these years."

His features darken, and she actually regrets saying what she did. Before she can even _attempt_ an apology, he grips her upper arms tightly and practically growls her name. "Regina, are you saying that my wife and daughter are definitely dead then? I know you tried to save face with Henry earlier, but I need to know the truth."

"I don't know," she whispers, caught in the fury in his eyes. She briefly wonders if this is how it would feel to stare death in the face. The sudden sensation of tears slipping down her cheeks makes shame burn white hot within her. "The curse should have completely obliterated everything of the old lands."

"So you lied to Henry?"

"I promised that I'd try to find a way to bring them back." She lifts her chin defiantly, knows that its trembling negates the show of bravado. "And I will, or I'll die trying."

"Good. Because if they are dead and I find out that you did all of this intentionally, you'll get a first class, one way ticket to Hell by my hands. Understand?"

She starts to nod, honestly fearful of the anger rolling off him in waves, but he stops her by kissing her hard. Intuition dictates that her lips will be bruised, and not in pleasant ways, come morning, but she doesn't care. She returns the kiss with the tiniest of whimpers crawling up the back of her throat. The next thing she knows, he shoves her back forcefully, and she stumbles to the floor as he storms out of the mansion, door slamming shut ominously in his wake.

And all she can do is curl up in a ball on the floor and cry until exhaustion and too much cider overwhelms her senses and she passes out.


End file.
